


The Inefficiency of Words

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Related, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Grinding, Intense, It's canon until it's not, M/M, Passion, Reunion Sex, Rickyl, Season 4.16- "A", Willing to die for each other, You're my brother line revisited, rick and Daryl find each other after being separated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:25:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one-shot follows Episode 4.16 (A) when Rick is reunited with Daryl and gnaws out a jugular to save the group.  I diverge from cannon at the start of the "you're my brother" line.  Because I think they are more than brothers as you'll see.  Words are not capable to<br/>explain the depths of their bond and they must rely on their bodies and lips to explain the feelings that they can't find words for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inefficiency of Words

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my Beta-reader Skarlatha, who reviewed this while on vacation! That's a dedicated beta reader!

Daryl Dixon was more surprised than anyone at how lonely he was when Beth disappeared. He was alone for weeks. Walking alone. Hunting alone. Eating alone. Looking for family and finding no one.

They’d been together since the prison fell, he and Beth. They survived. They laughed, cried, drank, talked and they touched. Beth had been hugging him. Sitting close. She'd put an arm on him when they walked and he no longer flinched at the familiar touches. In fact, he was finding comfort in them. She’d pat his back when she could see he was down. And then she was just gone. And that’s what she left him with, the sudden need to be touched and loved. The need for family and closeness. And the loner who never needed anybody felt an unfamiliar longing.

Suddenly he was a man who craved human connection. He’d hunted and eaten and lived alone for most of his life, but suddenly with the disappearance of Beth, he found that he’d changed.

He wanted his people back. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted his family, Beth, Carol, all of them. But what he wanted most was Rick. He felt lost without Rick by his side. He felt naked and aimless like a sheared sheep without a shepherd. 

He was desperate to find Rick and put an arm on him like Beth had done while they walked. This touching, he’d learned, was a way to  
communicate complicated emotions without words and Daryl was always shit with words.

And so he wanted to find Rick and put a hand on him because he had something important to say that he didn't have the words for. Hell, he didn't even really know what it was, but everything in him was bursting with... this thing that he didn't understand.

And after all this time, almost giving up hope, here he was. Rick. Daryl knew instantly when he laid eyes on his leader that he would he do absolutely anything to save this man.

“Ten Mississippi. Nine Mississippi. Eight Mississippi....”

"Joe," Daryl shouted, snapping out of his shock and scrambling up the embankment. “Hold up."

.........

Rick had kept himself stoic and his eyes hard, even with the gun to his head and a countdown to his death ticking away in Mississippi's, but his eyes filled with emotion and blurred when he saw Daryl. He was here. He was HERE.

Rick knew he'd had to be alive. Of all the people at the prison, he was a survivor. He could make it. Not having Daryl by his side had been unbearable. Breathing was harder. Walking was harder. Hoping was harder. He was thankful every second to have Carl with him. He was thrilled to meet up with Michonne. But all these days and weeks his brain played like a skipping record, "Where's Daryl, where's Daryl, where's Daryl.” Rick NEEDED him. Had no explanation for it, but he needed this man by his side and now, here he was.

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," Joe complained.

"Just hold up," the hunter said calmly, his voice soft and submissive.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about,” one of the claimers said.

"The thing about nowadays,” Joe said with a dramatic pause, “is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl.”

"These people,” Daryl said, desperate for the right words. The one thing he needed so badly right now were words and those were the very thing that always eluded him. But he opened his mouth and willed the right words to find their way to his tongue. “You're gonna let 'em go. These are good people."

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll of course have to speak for him and all cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom," Joe said.

"You want blood. I get it," Daryl said, slowly lowering his weapon and raising his hands. "Take it from me, man. Come on." 

Daryl stood steadily with his arms outstretched, ready and willing to do anything that could save his people. It was likely that Joe's group would still kill them all, and Daryl was ready to die if he had to, but maybe the distraction would serve as an opportunity somehow. 

He, Rick and Michonne had always been the strongest in the group and were in tune and able to read each other. If Daryl had to die to offer a distraction that would allow even the slimmest chance for their survival, he was completely willing to do it. 

The noise from Rick's thudding heart quieted in his chest, as if his body was trying to whisper so he could hear better. Using words to tell someone you'd die for them is one thing. And it's a thing that happened more often than it used to now that the world was in shambles.

But when the time for action comes, there is no greater loyalty than to follow through with that promise. And here was Daryl, offering himself, truly willing to die for Rick without even batting an eye. Rick wanted to get to him so badly he almost just jumped up and ran toward him. He owed this man. He's always owed him.

"This man killed our friend. You say he's good people. See, now that right there is a lie. It's a lie!" Joe said with emphasis.

Daryl felt a blow from behind him and he crumpled to the ground, Rick ripped from his line of vision as he fell. "Teach him fellas. Teach him all the way.”

Blood pumped back into Rick’s ears as he watched. His heart beat faster and his breaths grew wild and frenzied. In between the punches he heard the car door and saw Carl dragged out. His heart thudded. Thudded. Thudded. His son. This could not happen. This could NOT happen.

"You leave him be! Listen, it was me. It was just me," Rick hissed through clenched teeth, trying to stay calm, trying to rationalize with these animals. His gaze went from Daryl to Carl to Michonne and back again, darting like a pinball.

"See, now that's right. That's not some damn lie. Look we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy. Then I'm gonna shoot you and we'll be square," Joe said with a jovial voice.

"Let him go,” Rick demanded even though he was in no position to make demands, outnumbered and outgunned. “Let him go," he repeated.

Rick processed his options. Eyes slowly trailed through the camp from scene to scene with Joe's heavy laugh as the soundtrack. Michonne was kneeling at gun point. Strong. Silent. Crouched like a panther waiting for an opportunity. His son, pressed to the ground, the attacker laughing and clawing at him. And Daryl. His .... His Daryl. He had offered up his own life for Rick's and for his family’s. Two men were on the hunter, kicking and punching, and he heard Carl’s whimpering and his cries.

This will not be the way it ends for them. He will not sit here and let his family be murdered and raped. He can’t not act. Daryl grunted with each thump of boot to bone. Carl cried out and the sound of a belt buckle made something inside Rick snap.

He had no play, no angle, no way to fix this, but he had to act. He felt Joe’s breath on his neck. Heard the sound of his laughter. Felt the cool metal of the muzzle at his temple. The connection between thought and action grew narrower until they were happening as one. Rick slammed his head back into Joe, making the gun go off by his ear.

The ringing made him feel like it was all a bad dream. And the crack of Joe’s forehead to the back of Rick’s skull made him dizzy. Voices were muffled and far away but he could still place them- Carl whining, grunts from Daryl after each soft thud of fists to flesh and kicks to ribs. Michonne, taking an opportunity, making a play for the gun but failing. He turned around and landed a fist to Joe's chin. It was immediately reciprocated and Rick went down hard, body still aching from the beating he'd gotten from the governor.

"I got him,” Joe laughed, “Oh, it's gonna be so much worse now. Come on, let's see what ya got." He kicked at Rick as the leader struggled to get to his feet.

He got himself upright, moving quicker than thinking, and he threw himself into Joe unsteady and still dizzy. He found himself trapped in Joe's grasp, helpless, with his weak arms pinned to his side.

"What are ya gonna do now, sport?" Joe asked.

Rick stood, weaponless with the cries and grunts from his son and his... Daryl filling his ears. And he became an animal. His instincts were primal and brutal and deadly. And as he sunk his teeth into the man's jugular it was as if he was suddenly craving the taste of a fresh kill like a mother lion protecting her cubs. He tasted the thick metallic liquid as it filled his mouth and dripped down his chin. And for a moment, unsteady on his feet, he almost considered swallowing the flesh and blood he'd ripped from Joe's neck before he spit.

He heard Michonne react. Gunfire, several shots. Bodies dropping. He turned to his son, who was now standing with his attacker holding a knife behind him. Michonne's weapon was trained on him. "Let the boy go," she said as the sound of Daryl’s boot crushed the last of his attackers.

"I'll kill him. I'll kill him!" the last man standing said nervously, knife to Carl’s throat, clearly intimidated by Rick's actions.

Time hung in the air, unticking. Daryl and Michonne stood still, trying to plan their action, but again, Rick moved before the thoughts were even fully completed. "He's mine," Rick said. He walked with determined purpose and zero fear, took the knife right out of the attacker's hands and gutted him. Repeatedly.

He should have gone for the head. End it. But he couldn't stop. He wanted this monster to feel every slice and jab through his insides while looking Rick right in the eyes. Don't fuck with me, Rick thought as he stabbed the knife in and out. And DON'T fuck with my family. He could still taste Joe's blood on his tongue as he watched life dim in his prey’s eyes and he let the heavy body drop.

Rick kept his eyes on his kill, but in his peripheral vision he saw Carl in Michonne's arms. Daryl came up to his side, took the knife from his hand and pressed the blade into the skull of the body before them. Rick didn't move.

He listened as Daryl checked on Carl and Michonne, got them in the car and told them to rest before dawn. The sound of Daryl's voice consoling his son covered him like a soft blanket. He was here. Daryl was here and taking care of his son when Rick was too far gone to move.  
.......

He felt Daryl behind him. "Rick." The hunter placed fingers on the leader's chin, moving his face so their gazes met. The hunter took his handkerchief and wiped at the blood that was now drying in Rick's beard.

"You offered your life," Rick said.

"Would do it again," Daryl replied as he dumped some water from a bottle onto the red cloth and tried again to wipe at the blood. He held Rick steady with a hand on the back of his neck as he scrubbed.

"Carl ok?"

"Yah they’re both fine. You should lay down, I'll take first watch.”

"You ok?" Rick asked, ignoring the hunter’s suggestion.

"Not my first beatin'. I'll be fine," Daryl answered as he leaned back against the hood of the car. He sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. "I didn't know what they were."

"How'd you wind up with them?" Rick asked.

"I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while,” Daryl said slowly. He felt an emptiness in his gut talking about her.

"Is she dead?" Rick asked.

"She's just gone. After that, that's when they found me. I mean, I knew they were bad but they had a code. It was simple. It was stupid. But it was something,” Daryl took a deep breath. “It was enough."

"And you were alone," Rick said

"I didn't know what they could do,” Daryl whispered, clearly feeling responsible.

"It's not on you, Daryl." Rick met the hunters eyes with his intense gaze. "It’s not on you. You being back with us. Here. Now. That's everything. You're..." Rick let his words hang in the air. It was more than friendship. More than brothers. Even more than 'to death do us part.' This thing between them was about dying for each other. Killing for each other. Needing each other to breathe.

Daryl felt his bottom lip tremble as he fought to suppress tears. He tried to steady his breathing by matching his inhales and exhales to Rick's. He usually kept his tears for private moments. But he didn't want to be alone anymore, not even for crying.

The leader could feel Daryl's grief in the air. He needed to thank him, comfort him, hold him. He opened his mouth to speak... But he couldn't find the right combination of words to express what he was feeling.

"There ain't words, Daryl,” he said and he stepped towards the hunter, wrapping him in an embrace.

This touch was what Daryl had so desperately needed. More than water. More than food. Daryl wrapped his arms around Rick and rested his head on his shoulder.

He'd had hundreds of high fives, pats on the back and fist bumps with this man. They'd even slept next to each other for warmth probably hundreds of times, but in all these years they'd never shared a full hug like this.

Without words available to express their mural relief at finding each other, they had only their bodies to communicate. Daryl pulled Rick tighter against his own body, realizing that it wasn't just human contact that he'd been craving, but contact with Rick. His Rick.

He started quietly sobbing on Rick's shoulder and he felt the leader rubbing circles on his back. He'd never shared his tears with anyone before. Rick brought one hand from Daryl’s back to his head. He kissed at his cheek and neck as they stayed tightly embraced.

“Been looking for you, Daryl. Knew you wouldn’t die. You couldn’t.” Rick’s voice hiccuped. And he kissed Daryl’s forehead above the corner of his eye, then again on his cheekbone. He was surprised the touch-shy redneck was allowing it, but he was relieved because it was the only way Rick could communicate right now and he had to communicate. He had to tell Daryl these things that his lips could only express in kisses.

Daryl had no idea he wanted to be wrapped in Rick’s arms like this until he was. He was bursting with unfamiliar emotions that didn’t make sense. He didn’t care about making sense out of them, he just wanted what he felt. He wanted Rick’s warm body against him like this. Wanted to feel his chest rise and fall against him. Wanted his leader's hands rubbing his back as he cried for Beth, cried for Carol and Glenn and Maggie and cried for himself, because he was so happy to not be alone.

“Shhhh,” Rick whispered. “It’s ok. I've got you. You're not alone.” He felt Rick kissing him again on his neck and the side of his face. On his forehead. His cheekbone. And he wanted that. Wanted those kisses and that comfort and the words inside each brush of Rick’s lips. Breathing steadier, tears drying up, he turned towards Rick’s kisses with parted lips and his leader brushed them with his own. Both men breathed heavily. Lips loose against each other, both wanting this thing that was happening, but neither knowing how to start it.

Daryl slowly moved his lips and they slipped into rhythm with Rick's as he reciprocated. The hunter tasted blood and power and passion as he gripped into the curls that hung long at Rick's neck.

“Daryl,” Rick murmured, both their chests heaving, nervously gasping for air between kisses. “Daryl, I…” his words kept being swatted aside as the hunter chased them away with his tongue.

“Ain’t gotta be words, Rick,” Daryl said breathlessly. The leader made the first move with his hips, rubbing his body full against Daryl. The car gave way to movement and Rick pulled away, placing a hand on the car as if to steady it. He tried to get a glimpse at Michonne and Carl inside, but they'd covered the windows to keep the moonlight out.

Daryl felt stripped naked when Rick's body peeled off him so quickly. He was sure that would be all. An overly emotional response to a terrifying situation and now Rick was surely refocused. He'd be thinking about next steps and what the plan would be. What dawn would bring. Might even be wondering what the fuck he just did with a damn Dixon. Trying to think of the right words to apologize and brush the whole thing off like it didn't happen.

But as it turned out, he was no more done than Daryl. Rick took him by the hand to where the embers were smoldering on their campfire. He sat on a sleeping bag and pulled on Daryl to join him.

Silence hung in the air and Daryl became nervous. Because next came words and he didn't have any. He kept his gaze on the last breaths of the fire, keenly aware that Rick still held on to his hand.

"I'm not done," Rick said, also mesmerized by the pulsing glow of red embers. "Don't wanna scare you though."

"Ain't scared," Daryl said defensively, though he didn't mean it to sound like that. That was the problem with words. Even if you got 'em right, the tone could still fuck everything up. But it didn't matter.

He felt Rick's hand squeeze his own and the leader turned, pressed his lips to Daryl's and lowered him down to the ground with one fluid swoop.

Daryl heard himself moan as one of Rick's legs fell between his own. Their mouths worked slowly, fitting together, coming apart, fitting back together again. Rick rose up over the hunter, grinding his pelvis, feeling Daryl hard under him as the hunter's hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his bare back.

With each roll of his hips he felt Daryl gasp. The hunter's hips started swaying in answer to Rick's thrusts. And Rick took his mouth away, intimately pressing his forehead to Daryl's. "You. Feel good," he stuttered.

Daryl's head stretched back, exposing his jugular and Rick latched onto his neck, teething at it like a puppy playing gently with its littermates. He felt a groan growing in Daryl's throat. The hunter's hands grabbed onto Rick's ass to steady him as Daryl bucked to orgasm. Before his was finished, Rick was joining him. "Daryl. Daryl," he kept repeating as his cock pulsed and emptied in his jeans.

Rick rolled off, resting a hand soft on Daryl's thigh. They caught their breath as they lay looking at the stars.

"What was that?" Daryl asked softly, childlike.

"It don't have words," Rick answered.

"I like it," Daryl said.

Rick looked over at him. "Me too."

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first time I tried to literally go along canon for so long before diverging. What did you think? Was it blasphemous for me to change up the famous "you're my brother" line? I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback!


End file.
